


The Experience of Emotion

by cndrow



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 16:05:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5096771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cndrow/pseuds/cndrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are times Holmes wishes he could disassociate specific parts of his brain from himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Experience of Emotion

I wasn't sure what sound first woke me, but when it repeated I recognised it as a muffled voice. That alone wouldn't've surprised me, as we had visitors of all hours and there were occasions Holmes didn't shake me to wakefulness.

But I also identified the voice as Holmes' own, with the certainty that was inherited by spending so much time in another's company, and that knowledge is what had me throwing off the duvet and rushing out of my room. The hint of anxiety had been unmistakable, and my dear friend and fear did not easily come together.

In my haste I'd left my candle, but I intimately knew every step and turn that brought me directly to the side of his bed. By the flickering glow of the gas-lamps through the window I could see Holmes sitting up in his bed, knees drawn to his chest, hands moulded to his face. Even distressed, I knew he would know I was there, so I made no effort to announce myself before I sat beside him, one hand reaching over to cover his.

There was silence for several moments as his breathing calmed and the slight tremor in his fingers faded. At length he lowered them to reveal his sharply aristocratic features, taking my hand with his to settle against his leg.

"My dear Holmes," I murmured quietly, "You must confide in me."

His voice was rough with sleep and, I suspected, emotion. "Must I?"

"Indeed. You must."

"I regret to inform you, Watson, that you've become _demanding_ as of late. As a trait it's most undesirable in a companion."

His tone was light, pleasantly teasing, but the smile didn't light the set of brilliant silvered eyes. My mouth dug into a frown to display my disapproval of his forced frivolity.

"And you worry me with your evasion. I have heard you cry out and seen you looking unusually distressed. _Please,_ Holmes."

The thin nostrils flared with a swift intake of breath, and I knew it was only a matter of time now. Holmes would spend a moment composing his reply, and I was expected to be quiet and compliant so the great mind could work.

That was how it usually went, so I was surprised when the long, pale hand upturned and curled about mine, warm palms meeting _just so_ and so _wonderfully._ The tightness of the grip was a welcome invitation, and I drew closer until our shoulders brushed.

"Never for a moment have I regretted creating and maintaining my profession."

Truthfully, I heard no bitterness in the declaration, but his eyes were still dark and unreadable. This time I was forced to wait as he formulated his next words. When he did speak, his demeanour had changed; withdrawn, frightfully quiet, with a thread of timidity that furthered my concern.

"But there are times, Watson. There are times I despair of the depth of depravity that Man is capable of, and that I must be positioned to witness it."

I knew instantly what he spoke of; not a fortnight ago there had been a particularly gruesome murder we stumbled upon whilst chasing an avenue of circumstance. Holmes, with his boundless enthusiasm, had bolted up the stairs of an abandoned factory and outdistanced me to our destination. Upon thrusting open the door, Holmes stumbled upon the rapidly dying victim; an orphaned child, no more than six years of age whose only mistake had been to sleep near the old boilers for warmth. The thief we had been chasing had struck the tiny girl down, presumably thinking the movement in the darkness was one of us.

Holmes had expressed no sympathy, though he had held me firmly the rest of the evening. I had been shaking uncontrollably in the aftermath of the vision, and only stilled when he wrapped me in his arms by the fire. Afterwards we had not spoken a word of the incident; the thief-turned-murderer had been caught, I had attended the child's final resting, Holmes had become bored and languid whilst awaiting the next puzzle.

When I returned to the present from my musing, I found Holmes' gaze fixed on mine, and my chest grew heavy to see the rare glimpse of sadness, vulnerability that stretched deep into such a guarded soul.

"The experience of emotion It is most tiresome."

"'Tiresome?' Really, my dear fellow. You cannot be so callous."

"I'm _not,_ Watson!" He spoke loudly, too loudly against my ear, and this time I could hear the anguish his eyes had betrayed. "And _that_ is the issue!"

He curled against me suddenly, smooth cheek pressed to my skin just above the crook of my dressing gown, hands gripped in my hair to pull me yet closer. I let him push and arrange myself as he saw fit so he was comfortably resting in my lap, and my hands found the small of his back, stroking lightly in the manner which I knew soothed him.

"It is not an issue," I replied lowly. "It is refreshing to hear. It gives me hope that beneath your singularly unique talents and extraordinary mind that you hide a spark of humanity."

"I awoke with an unnamed fear," Holmes continued, sounding steadier though he still spoke only just above a whisper. "It occurred to me, as it has so many times in the past, that it would be ever so gratifying if I could completely divorce myself of feeling, so that I could then totally devote my considerable powers to the science of reasoning."

I moved to speak, but he quieted me with a sharp gesture.

"And just as I was about to conclude that should be my proper aspirations in the future my door opened, you appeared at my side, and I-,"  He rotated in my grasp, his hands falling from my head to fold around my neck. The openness in the burning eyes intensified, stealing my next breath. "I completely abandoned the decision, for then I would not be so adequately wrapped in your care at this moment."

Overwhelmed by the display of overt affection, I bent my head to press my lips to the high forehead, then the hawkish nose, then his mouth found mine and we spent the remainder of the night creating happier memories.

**Author's Note:**

> Written July 2012


End file.
